


Honey I shrunk the geniuses

by Tigresse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Smut, Science Fiction, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-26 17:51:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12562868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tigresse/pseuds/Tigresse
Summary: Sherlock and Jim are eight and six inches tall





	1. Who is afraid to take a little risk

“What does this exactly do?” Mycroft asked the scientist impatiently, “I have to get back home now. My partner and I are hosting my parents and his parents for dinner. It’s important that we attend the dinner we are hosting at our place, isn’t it?”

 

The old scientist Darren Jaeger, about eighty years of age, coughed hard enough to rattle every ribcage of his before he handed Mycroft three bottles.

 

“Now listen very carefully Mycroft Holmes, some of these are dangerous if ingested and others can cause havoc if taken in the wrong proportions,” Darren leaned on his cane as he made the slow and perilous journey from one end of this laboratory to the other while Mycroft checked his watch repeatedly, rolling his eyes a bit, “One is meant for the nuclear research team, to be used in prescribed doses only and that too if there has been any dangerous exposure to powerful substances. The other is meant for the chemical weapons used in our submarines. Not to be swallowed because it means instant death. The third is a new experimental drug I made to shrink objects and I am giving you a prototype only because you insisted.”

 

He took a few wheezing breaths and added, “Its antidote is not made yet and it’s not fully tested. So keep it, show it, but don’t even think about using it in any way.”

 

“Why would I?” Mycroft said, “I am presenting to the army of foreign ministers and dignitaries that are here for the convention. I am not going to use any of these at all. I’ll only talk to them about what we’re building and how that might impact us positively. But remind me again why we are using this ‘shrinking violet’ potion?”

 

“Shrinking violet? Good one. Maybe I should name it so.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because I like it.”

 

“No, no, I meant…..never mind.”

 

Mycroft thanked the man and ran to his car where he found Greg waiting and fuming. “That was your fifteen minutes?”

 

“I know it took forty but what to do? Darren is really old and his assistants have a day off today. Took more time.”

 

“All right never mind. Now what are these?”

 

“One is for neutralizing any bad side effects of working in a nuclear research lab,” Mycroft explained as he drove the car, “One is for the chemical weapons we build and fire through submarines so the water doesn’t contaminate but the enemy gets his arse filled with it, and the third is…well not important so that doesn’t matter. I didn’t have time to argue with him so I just took it.”

 

“Okay then,” Greg started calling someone from his mobile, not even remotely interested in these crazy scientific experiments, “Let me see what the housekeeper has cooked for dinner. By the way, I have invited Sherlock and John too.”

 

***

 

Dinner was a more or less pleasant affair with excellent food, yummy desserts, fine aged wine, lots of chatter and banter and the parents from both sides bonding over everything from the cuisine to their sons to their crime fighting professions. Sherlock sat sullen faced amidst this although John tried to be extra nice and sociable on behalf of both of them. “Please at least try to be nice,” John whispered during the meal, “They are your parents too, and it’s about your elder brother’s upcoming wedding, at least show some eagerness to bond with the Lestrade’s.”

 

“I am not marrying Lestrade,” Sherlock snapped.

 

John gave up and decided to concentrate on the dinner table conversation. If his boyfriend was going to stew in his own juice, just because he had to give one evening, just ONE evening to a family gathering, then he wasn’t going to be the one to ease him into a good mood. Sometimes he wished Sherlock would be like Mycroft. That man could camouflage all his emotions like a Cuba tree frog changed its colors to suit its surroundings. He detested social life and attachments, yet he had decided to marry Greg because Greg liked the security of a marriage and he was hosting dinner just so his in laws would be happy.

 

Sherlock quietly left the dinner table before desserts had been brought in and went to Mycroft’s home office, deciding to work on a laptop there. Mycroft had three of them and thanks to Jim he had managed to hack into one. Maybe he could use it again and surf the net while the dreadful family thing went on.

 

He saw three bottles of differently colored substances there. The inner chemistry student in him instantly made him pick them up and begin to examine them.

 

“Sherlock!”

 

“Gerome!”

 

“Christ! I am going to be your bro-in-law. At least get the name correct. Greg it is! And put those down. High secret stuff from the laboratory run by MI5 and the country’s special defence unit. These two, nobody is even supposed to touch them.”

 

“Oh,” Sherlock withdrew, blushing a little. He felt like a child caught stealing cookies but he wasn’t prepared to just walk out of that room simply because his brother’s fiancé had caught him. “The third one,” he asked, “What about that?”

 

“Oh Myc said that one was not important. Maybe some kind of….a kind of…..some sort of stuff that’s not even been tested.”

 

At that, Sherlock’s eyes glittered like diamonds.

 

***

 

John looked at the small vial that Sherlock held up in front of his eyes, the headlights of a car traveling in the opposite direction causing the detective’s eyes to shine like two spheres of gold. He seemed pleased to no end, like the proverbial bratty younger sibling who had managed to grab the adult magazines under big brother’s bed. “Sherlock you are so going to get into trouble one day for all these things ….. pinching, stealing, concealing, whatever the fuck you keep doing. This thing in the vial, it’s not meant to be used in any lab other than the one operated by Jaeger. You are not authorized…..”

 

“Yadda yadda yadda yadda,” Sherlock made a motion with his fingers resembling a quacking duck. John got furious and didn’t say a word after that.

 

As they entered their flat, Sherlock put his arms around John with that needy look in his eyes and the doctor melted, as he always did whenever Sherlock started to initiate intimacy. Being totally absorbed with his work, violin, chemistry experiments and reading, it wasn’t often that Sherlock agreed to have sex and John, on the other hand, was a highly sexually charged being who needed it as often as possible. Having Sherlock willingly surrender to him was like a lottery winning day for John and the remnants of his anger from their previous argument simply flew out of his mind.

 

As he rocked against and inside Sherlock, those mile long legs placed on his shoulders as his light eyed lover groaned and wailed for release underneath him, John knew he would forgive Sherlock even a murder, as long as the man continued to belong to him.

 

“Jawwwnn….”

 

“Wanna cum now?”

 

“Uhhhhh….”

 

 _That was so Sherlock! Not communicative, not even during sex; instead always expecting John to understand and do exactly what he wanted him to do!_ John suppressed a fond grin and kissed those cupid bow lips as he sped up, getting on his knees and pulling his lover closer.

 

He could feel his orgasm building and moving to a dangerous point of no-return when Sherlock let out a loud cry and climaxed. Milky spurts landed on his abs and John quickly grabbed his erection and stroked him through it while the detective writhed hard.

 

It took mere seconds for John to come and once he had emptied himself, he slowly pulled out and reached for the tissues by the bedside. Sherlock lay there, smile on his face, like a Cheshire cat that was smug about how much milk he had managed to grab for himself.

 

“Did you like it babe?” John kissed his cheek.

 

“Very much, sex with you is always good,” Sherlock looked innocent as a lamb.

 

The corresponding affectionate and triumphant smile on John’s face made the detective grin. He knew John loved sex with him and he loved it even more when Sherlock enjoyed sex with him. Well, he did love being fucked by John but that night he had a very special reason to make John happy. He needed the doctor’s permission to do something the next day. Once cleaned up and snuggled together under the blankets, Sherlock stroked John’s arm, the arm that was draped around him, and whispered, “I am going to invite Jim home tomorrow.”

 

“Hmmm….mmmm….okay.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Sherlock knew John was half-asleep and half-absorbed in moments of remembered pleasure and would say yes to anything he asked for. It was a tried and tested method. He giggled softly, barely able to conceal his excitement and humor at having tricked his partner.

 

“G’night Jawn!”

 

“Love you baby, goodnight.”

 

***

 

“Lemme see it, lemme see, lemmeeee!!!”

 

“James, stop acting like a child.”

 

Sometimes, when he was with Jim Moriarty, Sherlock felt as if he was in the second half of a football match where the teams changed sides on the field. While he acted childish, petulant and disobedient with the likes of John and Mycroft, with Jim the goalpost changed to the other side of the field and it was his turn to be the adult while Jim kept acting like a brat. The example was right before his eyes, as the infamous criminal mastermind straddled Sherlock’s lap and tried to grab the vial from the detective. Thanks to his long arms, Sherlock kept it away from Jim’s reach, but barely managed to do so.

 

“Why do you call me over when you won’t even let me participate?”

 

Sherlock sighed, “Let me explain things first and then we can decided how to test this.”

 

“Fine, go on, but make it quick. I don’t have all day.”

 

“I just saw you clear your calendar James.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“All right, all right, no abusing. Now here is what I found….”

 

Once Sherlock had finished explaining what he had observed in that solution, Jim gave his opinion on it. They both agreed that the chemicals were not poisonous nor would they produce anything toxic as a side effect. Most ingredients were known to them and the ones unknown were compounds of known substances. The closest parallel they could draw to this solution was a growth enhancer used in children’s health drinks and certain tonics. After a long debate they decided that the only way to crack the code of this mysterious solution was to test it on someone.

 

“Mrs Hudson,” Jim said excitedly.

 

“No, not her, definitely not her,” Sherlock objected.

 

“John?”

 

“He is my partner Jim.”

 

“Mycroft.”

 

“He won’t be easy to test on.”

 

“Yeah agreed, hey, how about us?”

 

“You mean us?”

 

Jim shrugged, “Why Sherly, afraid of a little risk?”

 

Sherlock would have normally taken the risk anyways but with Jim taunting him his aggression doubled and he grabbed the vial and poured some into his mouth. At first he scrunched up his face and said ‘Too sweet’ before he coughed and added ‘Little cold’. Seeing Sherlock do this stoked Jim’s competitive side and he too wished to show off his risk-taking daredevil side now. He quickly put the vial to his lips and swallowed the other half. His reaction was a wince and a ‘Not so sweet but yes, cold, like chewing ice’.

 

Minutes passed and they kept looking at each other. “See,” Jim said, “Nothing happened.”

 

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah, probably it was a much a do ‘bout nothing’ sorta thing.”

 

Suddenly they heard a strong buzzing sound and the two geniuses stared at each other and said ‘Drones’! But the next moment the object causing that sound appeared and that was when they realized what they had been hit with.

 

It was a normal housefly but it was nearly half as big as they both were!


	2. Everything looks so big

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacuum cleaner, rubber spider, squeaky voices

“Shoooo shoooo shooooo you ugly big whore of a fly,” Jim waved his arms and even legs at the insect as it circled the two geniuses, “I am going to splat it with the newspaper no matter how big ass it’s grown. Where the fuck is the newspaper Sherly?”

 

Sherlock grabbed Jim, “This is not good.”

 

Jim looked at him questioningly, brows knotted together, to which the detective grabbed Jim’s head and made him look like what seemed to be yards and yards of paper with huge strange patterns and splashes of colour on them. “This is the newspaper you were asking for James,” Sherlock said in a hassled tone, “That fly hasn’t grown big and neither has the newspaper. Look all around you. We have shrunk. We are now, by my estimate, only about eight and half inches and six inches tall. You are still the smaller one though.”

 

Realization dawned on Jim and he looked around wildly, his eyes widening as he compared his size to that of various other objects. Then he suddenly grabbed a tooth pick and stabbed the fly and killed it on the spot. Sherlock shuddered and stepped back, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed himself.

 

“Fucking insect was annoying me,” Jim shouted.

 

“James calm down.”

 

“Calm down my left foot. This is all your fault.”

 

“My fault? How on earth has this suddenly become my fault?”

 

“You brought that substance, you should have fucking known what it was, what it might do to us if we ingest it.”

 

“You are the one who insisted we take a risk. You taunted me and made me do it. If anyone is to be blamed then it’s you, you moron.”

 

“You dare call me a moron???”

 

Jim jumped on Sherlock and they wrestled angrily, Jim trying to hit out at Sherlock and Sherlock blocking his blows more than hitting him back. He knew Jim was panicking. He was beginning to panic a little too, because he had no idea how to get back to their original size.

 

Finally they gave up and started panting, lying side by side.

 

“I want to go home,” Jim drew his knees up to his chest and moaned.

 

“I can’t even say that, I am home,” Sherlock muttered. He sat there, feeling despondent and sad, watching Jim curl up into himself and moan pathetically about his condition.

 

After a while he gently laid a hand on Jim’s back and whispered, “James, wait, don’t get upset yet. I am sure there are ways to reverse this. Let me think, you think too, let’s find a solution to this problem. Anything that’s created must have an antidote to reverse its effects so I am pretty damn certain that Darren Jaeger, the man whose laboratory Mycroft brought this from, would know how to make us grow back to our normal sizes again.”

 

Suddenly Jim said, “I hear noises.”

 

Sherlock’s ears picked up and he heard the noises too. Thumping noises, as if some giant was walking closer and closer. Then a loud boom and crash sounded and the two tiny geniuses jumped back and grabbed hold of each other, suddenly scared of an earthquake or some kind of a sonic boom. But the truth was so funny that they took some time to digest it and accept it. There was no sonic boom and no earthquake. It was merely Mrs Hudson’s feet thumping on the staircase and the flat door opening loudly. As tiny people those noises, which were normal in other circumstances, sounded abominably loud to them now.

 

“Mrs Hudsooooon,” Sherlock screamed, “We are saved Jim, she will look after us while Mycroft arrives.”

 

“Old woman,” Jim screamed, “Look down here nanny goat.”

 

“Jim,” Sherlock was aghast, “Be nice!”

 

“Ok, Mrs Nanny Goat…..sorry Mrs Hudson, look down here, we are heeeere!”

 

“Heeeeeere,” Sherlock waved both arms.

 

“Right heeeere, on the couuuuucchhh,” Jim yelled so hard he started coughing from a scratchy throat.

 

“She can’t hear us,” Sherlock sighed, “Even our voices are tiny now.”

 

“Oh God no, look,” Jim pointed.

 

Sherlock screeched, “No Mrs Hudsooooon, noooooo, stoppppp!”

 

Mrs Hudson had started vacuuming the place. the sound was deafening and they knew that if she pointed that dreaded nozzle at them they’d easily get sucked into the dirty trash bag and then dumped in some alley inside a trash can. Then the dump yard, then crushed by some steamroller, then probably converted into manure and become a part of the environment preserving energy recycle program.

 

“Run Jimmmm!”

 

“Run where? The ground is so far from us.”

 

“There is a rug, we will not be too hurt. Jummmmmp!”

 

They both screamed in fear as they jumped. It felt like the Barts rooftop incident for Sherlock and skydiving for Jim as they whooshed down the air, almost like they were falling hundreds of feet. Both men closed their eyes and waited for the impact which, on a safe guess, would at least give them sprains, bumps and bruises. However, their landing proved to be softer than usual and aside from a big moment of fright they were fine.

 

The sounds of joy they made reached Mrs Hudson’s ears as squeaky noises and she looked around suspiciously, “Mice? There are mice here? I must fetch the mouse trap.”

 

“Why does that old goat vacuum your house,” Jim demanded to know, hands on his hips, as Mrs Hudson hurried downstairs to fetch the mouse trap, “She is your landlady and not your housekeeper then why is she vacuuming your house? Oh I get it, it’s because you keep it so filthy that she can’t stand to see her house so degraded and falling apart. Now look what you’ve done, she will come back soon and we are going into the waste dump. Obliterated like that stupid house fly I killed. It’s all your bloody fault, what…why are you picking me up, how can you still have the strength?”

 

Sherlock had slung him over his shoulder like a sack of peas.

 

A hard hand smacked down on his arse and Jim yelped.

 

“Did you forget you’re smaller and lighter than me, whether I am over six feet tall or just six inches tall.”

 

“Don’t be smug about it you ass, where are we going?”

 

“My bedroom, she never gets in there.”

 

“Wait, we need to take our phones. We need to call for help.”

 

Minutes later the two geniuses were carrying Sherlock’s phone over their heads, tottering and wobbling along, as one would do while carrying an entire telephone booth. To make matters worse, the distance between the bedroom and living room was like a football field for them and they had to stop several times to catch their breath.

 

Fortunately they were almost at the bedroom door when they heard Mrs Hudson enter. “Yeah, now let’s see how these annoying mice stay here. Sherlock is such a lazy bum, if he doesn’t keep food and crumbs lying around all the time those rodents wouldn’t be here.”

 

Jim looked at Sherlock and smiled crookedly.

 

“Oh there is a phone here,” she was heard saying, “Must be Sherlock’s. I shall keep it with me. Turn it off and hide it in fact. Serves him right for keeping things lying around.”

 

It was now Sherlock’s turn to grin crookedly at Jim.

 

“She is switching off my phone,” Jim shook his tiny fist, “Now my clients can’t reach me and neither can my Sebby. What will tiger think? He will give up on me, find someone else, I am going to lose my six year relationship with Moran.”

 

Sherlock gave him a hard push, “Overreaction galore! Need your meds?”

 

Jim growled and jumped on Sherlock’s back, clinging to him like a monkey as he pulled at his hairs. Sherlock thrashed around, trying to get this bat out of hell to get off of him, but Jim was stuck to him tighter than glue and he had to resort to smashing the man against the door to loosen the grip a bit. Jim finally let go but not before he had managed to pull out a few tufts of Sherlock’s hairs in sheer anger. “I will shove the meds down your arse you prick,” he yelled at the detective, looking so much like his Barts rooftop self that Sherlock had to step back a bit.

 

Then an idea struck him.

 

“You have your gun with you Jim?”

 

Jim stopped his tantrums, “Yes, why?”

 

“Can we just shoot Mrs Hudson on the foot?”

 

“How about in the head?’

 

“No, no, not to hurt her for real, just to get her attention. I am sure even the gun is not that lethal in its small size so all she might feel is a tiny pinprick or something.”

 

“Nah,” Jim checked his gun and made a face.

 

“Why this sudden propensity to be an angel?”

 

“Not being an angel. Seb doesn’t allow me real bullets at all. Why do you think I survived the Barts incident? He loaded my gun with blanks and blanks are all I have, even today.”

 

Sherlock displayed frustration and anger for the first time. He grabbed Jim by the lapels of his coat and snarled, “What sort of a criminal mastermind are you Jim, huh? You don’t even carry a gun with real bullets in it? Your sniper, your second in command, he controls your life, he puts blanks in your gun and yet you have the gall to call yourself the most dangerous man in London?”

 

“I do,” Jim said defiantly, “Sue me.”

 

Sherlock let him go, “Fine, let’s try calling Mycroft.

 

Calling proved to be far more difficult than they thought. For once, their reduced strength meant they couldn’t push the buttons anymore with their fingers. The huge big circular buttons refused to even budge not matter how hard they pressed.

 

“I have an idea,” Jim said, “Let me call out his number and you jump on the button.” When Sherlock gave him a duh look he crossed his arms over his chest and said, “So? It is your phone, your brother and you are certainly heavier than I am.”

 

Sherlock looked at him resignedly and said, “I have him on speed dial. He fed it into my phone. Guess that means I jump only once.”

 

It took him a grand total of six jumps to get the button to function and they heard a metallic vibration on the phone as it started to connect to Mycroft’s number. Jim motioned for Sherlock to come to that part of the phone which had the small mouthpiece. Owing to their reduced stature and suitably lower voices, Sherlock was prepared to yell into the mouthpiece so his brother could hear him. After a few rings Mycroft disconnected (Jim called him a motherfucker, which made Sherlock shudder with disgust) and a pre-formatted text of ‘I will call you back’ flashed on the screen.

 

“Again,” Jim said, “Call him again.”

 

Which Sherlock did!

 

This time Mycroft answered, although it was after ten rings, and his voice was a low, displeased hiss. “Sherlock, I am in the middle of a very important meeting and I did text you to let you know I will call back.”

 

“MYCROFT, WE HAVE SHRUNK. JIM AND I HAVE SHRUNK. WE HAD THAT SUBSTANCE YOU BROUGHT FROM JAEGER’S LAB AND IT MADE JIM AND I SHRINK TO SIX INCHES AND EIGHT INCHES. PLEASE CALL JAEGER AND ASK HIM TO TURN US BACK.”

 

“Hello?” Mycroft said.

 

“MYCROFT PLEASE TRY TO HEAR ME, IT’S ME, MEEEEE, SHERLOCKKK.”

 

“Hello? Sherlock why are you playing pranks on me at this time? You know I am working. Grow up will you?”

 

“O FUCK, DAMN IT….*cough*……MYYYYCRRRROOOOOFT! CAN YOU HEAR ME? PLEASE TRY TO HEAR ME, I AM IN TROUBLE, I AM RIGHT HERE.”

 

Mycroft’s muffled sounds came from the other side, indicating that he was trying to say something to someone who was with him. Sherlock kept yelling into the phone till he lost his voice and broke into a coughing fit. Jim joined him and yelled into the phone as well as Mycroft seemed to walk out of some noisy room. Then he spoke angrily, “Listen, if you’re going to give me blank calls I will be very displeased Sherlock. This is a matter as important as having an audience with the queen.”

 

“SIR MYCROFT HOMES, QUIT YOUR FUCKING CLOWNING AND COME OVER TO 221B,” Jim shouted into the phone.

 

“I am only hearing weird squeaky noises,” Mycroft seemed to tell someone.

 

Then someone, who sounded pretty much like Anthea, replied, “He must be asleep and his finger could have just struck the screen and dialled the last dialled number or something. Hang up boss, I will go and check on him in the next two hours or so. You go back to the meeting.”

 

Sherlock and Jim shouted in unison but Mycroft seemed to have taken Anthea seriously and hung up right after. They tried calling him again but found his phone switched off. “That’s great,” Sherlock said in utter disgust and complete frustration, “Now the bitch is going to come over to check on me. Of course, she won’t find me but she will find this phone and take this it away, for investigations. Or she might just stamp on us and squash us thinking we are little ants or something like that. Women hate insects and rodents with a vengeance.”

 

Jim suddenly yelled, “SPIDERRRRRRR!”

 

Sherlock gave him a vexed look, “No need to yell out your nickname.”

 

“No no no, a real spider!”

 

Sherlock burst out laughing, “Nope, it’s a rubber spider I was gifted by none other than your boyfriend Sebastian. It even has your name inscribed on it. My squishy toy when I am stressed. Relax!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny Sheriarty have to wait a bit longer to get 'resized'. Soon their 'live-ins' will make an appearance!


	3. Better than wetting my pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Sheriarty struggle with their tiny'ness', their lovers Seb and John are worried sick about their disappearance

“I am thirsty,” Jim tried to clear his throat, “All that yelling….”

 

“I know,” Sherlock sounded hoarse, “Me too.”

 

They spotted two tall glasses of water kept atop the bedside table and rushed for them. For once, Sherlock was glad he hadn’t drunk any water on waking up in the morning, at least not from these glasses, because reaching a tap and trying to pour water into a glass was near impossible for them right now. Jim beat him to the first glass and then stopped dead in his tracks, looking uncomfortable as he stared up at the thing. Sherlock snickered and said, “Okay Mr. Competitive, you were there first. Now let’s see how you drink the water without my help.”

 

“Don’t be smug you bitch.”

 

“Okay, drink it on your own you bitch.”

 

Jim stamped his foot, “Watch me do that.”

 

Sherlock initially thought he would have to improvise and help Jim but it turned out that Jim knew his house well enough and easily produced a straw from the drawer, which he opened by perching perilously on the edge of the bed. Sherlock often kept straws there so he could sip his morning tea, which John sometimes served so hot that his lips stung and burned for hours afterwards. The sneaky criminal knew it.

 

Standing on the pillow, Jim managed to push the straw into a glass (after knocking off the cover) and started drinking water. At first he was a mess, choking and spluttering, then he panted from the sheer effort of having to suck the water all the way up the long straw.

 

Finally he stopped when he was uncomfortably full and looked at Sherlock, “Just follow my lead and drink.”

 

Sherlock’s throat was so parched that he didn’t think about ego or anything else. He simply took Jim’s spot and started to drink water through the straw. After suffering the initial accident of pulling in too much and then from the exertion of having to suck so hard on the straw, he finally managed to quench his thirst.

 

He looked at Jim who was now hopping from foot to foot.

 

“What?”

 

“Um…Sherly….”

 

“Yeah, what is it?”

 

“I need to go.”

 

Sherlock shrugged, “If you can manage to go all the way to Conduit Street or Belgravia or Mayfair, whichever flat of yours you intend to go to, in this condition then let me warn you that it might take up to a month and you may be chewed up by some poodle on the way.”

 

“NO you moron,” Jim looked flushed, “I need to take a leak.”

 

As if hearing Jim say those words triggered off his own needs, Sherlock felt that tell-tale tingle in his groin and lower abs and realized he had a similar predicament. Drinking all that water, while satisfying, hadn’t been such a great idea after all and his bladder was now uncomfortably full. Outside the bedroom Mrs Hudson was vacuuming the floor and trying to get to the bathroom would be sheer madness at this stage. Then there was the whole aspect of trying to use the toiler….fuck….how were they supposed to use the toilet without falling into it somehow.

 

“Um….wait a minute.”

 

He knew this was gross and he’d shudder about it later but for now this would have to do.

 

Sherlock somehow managed to get off the bed and walk to the corner of the room where the trashcan stood. He looked at Jim, who was following his movements curiously, then turned his back to the criminal and urinated right next to the trashcan, trying to keep it as far away from his feet as he could. He closed his eyes and imagined himself inside a proper toilet and finished the deed somehow, turning towards Jim with a snort.

 

“Now you follow my lead and pee.”

 

Jim scrunched up his nose, “Ewwww!”

 

“What ewww?”

 

“You peed in your own bedroom.”

 

“In the corner, next to the trashcan. Best option possible. Better than wetting my pants.”

 

Jim realized what could happen and quickly came to the corner of the room, looking embarrassed. “You turn your face that way and don’t dare look at me while I am at it.”

 

“Or else you’d fire your blanks at me?”

 

“Shut up you smug bitch. Now how am I supposed to do it when you have already messed up the floor?”

 

“Do it on the other side and hurry. I can’t have you follow me around with wet pants on.”

 

***

 

John was a bit worried about Sherlock. He had been trying to call the detective all day but every single time the phone was answered, nobody spoke. He heard faint scraping and hissing noises on the line but that could be a faulty connection or a badly malfunctioning mouthpiece for all he knew. In a nutshell, he was wondering why Sherlock was not talking to him that day. Did he do something terrible like clean up Sherlock’s closet or his experiments table in the kitchen?

 

His fears multiplied when he saw a very glum Sebastian Moran standing on the doorsteps of 221B. Despite the mild animosity between their partners (they got along better now but still tried to outwit and outsmart each other), they were fond of each other due to their common love for writing, shooting, the countryside and of course the military background they shared so proudly.

 

The moment Sebastian saw him he grabbed John’s arm and asked, “Where is Jim?” Then, at John’s blinking surprise, his voice rose, more in desperation and fear than anger, “For Christ’s sake John, please tell me where my Jimmy is. He told me this morning he had an experiment to conduct and asked me not to follow him, so I didn’t. I have been calling him all day and he hasn’t answered even once, not even a fucking text. And he texts me like seventeen times a day, he’s that needy. Something has happened to him, I know it, damn I can even feel it. Where….where is Sherlock…..tell me….he’s not upstairs.”

 

“And why do you think Sherlock has Jim? Seb, they had a brief affair a long time ago. He and I are together now.”

 

“Oh is it? Then how come you’re okay with them meeting so often.”

 

“I trust Sherlock.”

 

Sebastian slumped against the door, rubbing his hands over his face, “I trust Jim with his fidelity, not with his behaviour. He can be very reckless. I looked everywhere John, now this is the only place I haven’t looked.”

 

John looked perplexed, “But you said Sherlock isn’t upstairs.”

 

“That old dame, whatshername…..Martha….she told me.”

 

“Martha?”

 

“Yeah, Martha Louise Hudson.”

 

John cleared his throat, “She lets you call her Martha?”

 

“Forget about THAT,” Sebastian shook him roughly, pointing at the door, “Take me upstairs and show me around NOW. If I catch them in bed I am going to shoot Sherlock’s brains out and I don’t care if he’s your partner or whatever the fuck he is.”

 

John did as he was asked, praying silently that Sherlock was not in and neither was Jim.

 

They bounded up the staircase and rushed into the flat. John found something odd about their place immediately. Had he not been staying there for years and known the place like the back of his hand, or the vibes and smells and sounds that came from it, he would have never known better. But he was so familiar with the 221B flat that his sixth sense went on overdrive instantly.

 

For starters, the place was clean, way too clean and had a pleasant lemony odour. Mrs Hudson had cleaned up this place several times in the past but every single time Sherlock would mess it up once more or smoke in here and make the place stink of cigarettes. The windows were open, something Sherlock didn’t like to do in the spring months. It was way too cold for him like this. Sherlock’s coat, scarf, shoes, gloves, everything he wore when he went out, were neatly hanging where they should which meant the man hadn’t left the flat.

 

Sebastian in the meantime was searching high and low for his boyfriend/boss, calling out Jim’s name several times and looking at every nook and corner of each room. He even went upstairs and looked all through John’s former room and bathroom, which they used a guest room now, and came bounding downstairs with a pale and ashen faced look. Shaking his head in bewilderment and despair, he began to look into the cabinets and drawers and even the canisters in the kitchen, causing John to irritably snap at him, “I know your man is slightly built but even he can’t really be fitted into any of those shelves and jars you know.”

 

“He was here damn it,” Sebastian snapped back, “Look, his sunglasses are on the coffee table and there are two cups of half-finished tea next to it.”

 

Suddenly Mrs Hudson appeared and served Sebastian a nice hot cup of coffee, much to John’s surprise. “You never told me your military colonel was so handsome and tall,” Mrs Hudson spoke with both affection and awe, “Oh by the way, Sherlock left his phone and I kept it with me. Here you go.”

 

Sebastian, blushing from the landlady’s compliments, hiccupped as soon as she had left and snatched the phone from John’s hands.

 

“Is this Moriarty’s?”

 

“John, they are in trouble. Jim will never leave this phone anywhere.”

 

John’s nerves were failing him by then, “I-I…think you might be right S-Seb.” He took his phone out and dialled Sherlock’s number, “Let me try one last time. If he answers it, just in case he put it on silent…..Yeah, it’s ringing.”

 

Sebastian’s head whipped towards the bedroom, “There! The phone is there!”

 

***

 

“Jim, wake up, wake uppppp!”

 

Jim looked around groggily, “Ten more minutes tigey-wigey!”

 

At any other time, the detective would have found him real cute but right now they were under desperate circumstances which needed desperate measures. Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his fellow tiny man awake, “I am not your tigey-wigey and stop saying that, it seems like you’re Sid the sloth and Sebastian is Diego the sabre toothed tiger from Ice Age. Wake up man, I think I heard your Sebastian and my John outside in the living room. Here, help me put this phone back on loud mode so they can hear the phone the moment they try to call us.”

 

“Yeah I can hear my Tiger, yeah he is here,” Jim rubbed his eyes and quickly got to his feet. He grabbed the sliding button on Sherlock’s iPhone as the detective and he heaved and hummed and moved it to the other mode, both men ruing over how they normally flicked a phone on and off its silent mode with a mere nail or a single fingertip. “Good, it’s done now, they will hear it ring,” Sherlock added, stepping back a little and putting his hands over his ears. They had put it on silent earlier because the constant ringing of the phone had almost deafened them. In their ‘compromised’ circumstances, the normal decibels of the phone’s ringtone sounded way more than what they could take.

 

As they had half expected, it started to ring in its shrill tone.

 

Moments later heavy footsteps came thudding into the room and two giants appeared. Sebastian looked like a behemoth next to John but even John, slight and smallish John, looked so imposing and big that both men shrunk away from the shadow he cast.

 

“He has left the phone here,” John picked it up. “God, this isn’t good,” he sighed and added with a slight wobble in his voice, “Do they have a common enemy?”

 

Sebastian thought for a moment and said, “Mycroft?”

 

John shook his head, “Nah. Mycroft won’t do something like this….”

 

Sherlock and Jim were trying desperately to draw the attention of the two men towards them. They jumped up and down on the bed, the pillow, screamed themselves hoarse and even tried to grab their men by some coat tail or belt hoop but the two ex-soldiers neither heard their voices nor spotted them.

 

“SEBASTIAN YOU IDIOT,” Jim yelled.

 

“JOHN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU BLIND AS A BAT?” Sherlock bemoaned.

 

“WE ARE HERE YOU FOOLS!!!”

 

“JOHN PLEASE FOR FUCK’S SAKE LOOK HERE. GO AND CALL MYCROFT.”

 

“God damn it, they can’t hear us at all,” Sherlock collapsed on his knees.

 

“We are not that small, why can’t they even spot us,” Jim growled out angrily, “I am going to throw stuff at them.”

 

“Like what?” Sherlock looked at him, “Feathers, toothpicks, paper, that’s all we seem to be capable of lifting at this point.”

 

John started pacing up and down all over the room, muttering and shaking his head while Sebastian sat down heavily on a chair and held his head in his hands. His eyes fell on something and he squinted a little. “Does Sherlock drink his water with a straw, like a little child with chapped lips does in the winter?” The sniper asked suspiciously, looking at the straw submerged in one of the glasses of water. He picked it up and began to turn it round and round in his hands.

 

Suddenly John, who had sauntered over to the corner of the room, slipped on something and skidded a little, making a yelping sound and causing Sebastian to get a start as well.

 

“Who the fuck spilled this little puddle next to the trashcan,” John turned up his nose, “Nearly landed on my arse.”

 

Sherlock and Jim looked at each other and then looked away, embarrassed but also a bit bemused by the comical turn their little ‘watersports’ act had taken!


	4. Your heartbeat is deafening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sebastian find out what happened to their geniuses. Anthea wears granny pants.

“They are leaving,” Sherlock yelled in Jim’s direction, “They are going away, stop them, let’s stop them Jim.”

 

The criminal mastermind saw the two men, looking crestfallen, leaving the room with the full intention of taking their search outside the flat and quickly tried to hop off the bed. The problem was that he was too small to hop off and right then the distance between him and the floor was almost like that of a mini cliff for a man his size. Jim was about to fall off the bed and with no rug on the floor it would have hurt him bad. However, Sherlock swiftly moved in his direction and held on to him as he slowly climbed down, using the bedsheets to his full advantage. “You owe me one now,” he grinned.

 

Jim huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes as Sherlock went one up on him. but he was hardly expecting what happened next. Sherlock moved towards him, picking Jim up piggyback style, and began to run towards the living room where their boyfriends were talking. “Put me down, put me down, I am not a child put me down you stupid lanky bastard,” Jim yelled and growled at his nemesis, thrashing his arms and legs about like an octopus. Sherlock continued, undeterred, “No I am not doing that. You’re a little minx and too damned slow. If we can’t stop them now we will never make it back to our normal sizes so shut up and stay put there.”

 

They caught up with them at the door and much to their dismay, Sebastian held it open and said, “Let’s look everywhere in town.”

 

“Yes,” John said, “They disappeared together. Since you looked at place Jim could be, maybe we should now look at places Sherlock might be.”

 

The two tiny men looked up at them, waving their arms to draw attention, when Sebastian delayed things for a while. The tall blonde leaned against the door and said, “They…you don’t think they ran off together did they?”

 

John shuddered visibly, “Shut up. Don’t scare me.”

 

“We were never good enough for them,” Sebastian muttered, “They always kept in touch. If we were enough for them why would they do that?”

 

“To be honest with you Sebastian,” John Watson answered in a strangely resigned voice, “Sometimes I wondered if Sherlock and Moriarty were really enemies? They never really intended to kill each other.”

 

“I really do…do love him,” Sebastian closed his eyes and his head hung towards his chest, “For some time I thought….I believe that he….he loved me too. I am even okay if…..he’s having an affair with Sherlock. I mean, I know it sounds like a loser talking but I am fine with that as long as he comes home to me at the end of the day.”

 

“Good then,” John sighed, “That makes two of us.”

 

Sebastian looked up at John, “Caring is a silly thing and sentiments are useless, that’s what he keeps telling me so I can’t say I haven’t been warned. But look at me, I can’t imagine a life without him. It’s been us, just us, running the empire together and sharing a home and bed, for years now. If he’s hurt or upset, he comes to me, it’s me he turns to when he’s confused or irritated about anything, it’s me he shared his dreams with. Am I still being delusional if I say I am his partner?”

 

“I am sorry to burst your bubble but with these two you never know,” John replied in a wistful tone, “They are both the same person, so by seeing Sherlock I know what Moriarty might be thinking. They take us for granted Seb, they know we won’t go anywhere. If push comes to shove and boredom looms large, one fine day they’ll just leave. They have already left us once haven’t they? Two bloody years, Christ!”

 

Sherlock and Jim couldn’t even hold each other’s gazes as shame and remorse washed over them. The way their men were talking showed them a mirror image of what they were, two brilliant and egoistic men who couldn’t even inspire confidence in their partners. Sherlock shuffled his tiny feet and said, “I…ehm…I wasn’t ever going to elope with you Jim. I….um, I mean to say, I do love John. But I am not the best man when it comes to expressing my emotions. But I had no idea he thought so poorly of me, that he felt I was being such a dick to him. I never intended to.”

 

“Same here,” Jim said, fiddling with his tiny fingers, “I love Sebby with all my heart. He is the only man I could really die for.”

 

“Jim, you can die at the drop of a hat.”

 

“I faked my death asshole, as did you.”

 

“You know what I mean. You have some suicidal tendencies.”

 

“Fine,” Jim snapped, “I could kill for him, or give it all up, are you convinced now?”

 

Sherlock raised his brows, “It’s not me, but him who needs to be convinced.” He pointed a finger at the tall blond man.

 

“Says the man whose pet thinks he’s taken for granted?”

 

“No.”

“What no?”

 

“NOOOOO, they are leaving!”

 

Leaving the emotional turmoil aside, the two of them literally jumped on to the shoes of their men and held on to the laces, determined not to lose sight of them. At that point they heard the clatter of heels on the steps and Sebastian and John stopped on the landing as they saw Anthea, Mycroft’s assistant, walking upstairs. The moment she saw them, she stopped and threw a questioning look.

 

“It’s not what it looks like Anthea,” John instantly said, “We….we need your help in fact.”

 

With Sebastian pitching in now and then with bits and pieces of information, John managed to explain to her everything about the sudden disappearance of the two geniuses and all associating events (like the phones left behind, Moriarty’s sunglasses there) thereof. In ten minutes the clever woman had clued in to the whole story and her face lit up with the light of realization. “So that explains why by boss got blank calls during the day. Those two were probably trying to get in touch with him but couldn’t talk, so the calls went blank. Quick, let’s head to Mr. Holmes’ office and discuss this with him because the matter seems to be serious. Can’t take it lightly.”

 

“No, no, we are here, we didn’t disappear,” Sherlock shouted.

 

Suddenly Jim did something despicably rude and yet Sherlock knew there was a reason behind it. So he didn’t stop him when he saw Jim rush towards Anthea, climb up her stilettos and continue the climb up her legs, or rather, between her legs.

 

“Oh oh,” Anthea wriggled and her face reddened, “What is this?”

 

Sebastian was wide eyed as she jumped and hopped and tried to reach under her skirt, “Ants….bedbugs?”

 

John, a little soberer, looked away with an appalled expression.

 

“No this something bigger…..OH MY GOD LOOK!”

 

She held mini Moriarty in her hands. John fell into a swoon while Sebastian yelped.

 

Sherlock was relieved. At least now they would get help. He heard Jim yelling ‘She is wearing granny pants’ and Sebastian saying ‘How am I ever going to do him again, he’s so little’ before he was also scooped up from John’s shoes by the MI5 woman.

 

***

 

“You crazy shitheads,” Sebastian was annoyed beyond annoyed, “Do you realize what you have done? You may never become normal again.”

 

Sherlock and Jim sat side by side as Anthea fed them some biscuits and tea, using small crumbs and bottle caps (which were the only things small enough for them to drink tea from). They were quiet and contrite, knowing fully well they had been rather reckless.

 

“Mycroft is on his way here with the scientist,” John declared, looking fed up and also a little bit scared, “What he said shook my entire cage! There is apparently no antidote yet. Once this scientist….Jaeger or whoever he is…..takes a look at Sherlock and Moriarty he will start creating the antidote. It might take days or even months and till then we will have to save these tiny arses from all kinds of trouble. This is ridiculous, too weird even for the likes of Sherlock and James Moriarty. Tell me something fellas, do brilliant minds have to have a crazy and stupid side?”

 

“You slipped on our pee,” Jim said gleefully, his evil streak still alive despite their precarious position right now.

 

John was furious and got up with fists raised when Jim cheekily added it was also Sherlock’s bodily fluids he skidded on, making the enraged doctor back down and look at his genius boyfriend, who sat sheepishly on his jeans covered thighs, looking rather humbled and apologetic. Jim on the other hand was a flying kite despite his size, sitting on Sebastian’s shoulder and beaming away to glory. “You do realize you are still tiny and you could fall if you wriggle and move too much, yeah?” Sebastian asked, but a fond smile appeared on his face which spoke of just how relieved he was to see Jim safe and sound and with him.

 

“The fall doesn’t hurt….” Jim began.

 

“Yeah, but if you fall you will hit something,” Sebastian said with a lopsided smile.

 

“You won’t let me will you tiger?”

 

“Honestly, I am a bit tempted to. How could you do this Jimmy?”

 

“Sherlock, he got the thing, ask him.”

 

Sherlock held up his hands, “Hey hey hey traitor! I might have got this but you took it on your own accord. You knew what you were getting into.”

 

“Stop fighting,” John said, “As it is it’s hard to hear what you guys are saying. Even your voices have become pretty tiny.”

 

“Owwwww,” Sherlock let out a pained cry.

 

“What happened?” John jumped.

 

“You hit me with a knife, that really hurt Jawn!”

 

John looked at everything he had in his pocket, emptying them thoroughly and found the offending object. His face broke into a toothy grin and, much to Sherlock’s chagrin, he seemed rather amused by it. The detective put his hands on his hips and glared at the ‘huge’ John, tapping his foot impatiently on John’s leg. “Relax little Lock,” John said between fits of laughter, “That is not a knife. It’s only the edge of a credit card that scraped against you. Now you stay safe in the pocket of my shirt, okay?”

 

He deposited Sherlock in the pocket of his shirt.

 

“No no noooo, your heartbeat, it’s deafening,” came the shout.

 

Sebastian looked meaningfully at Jim who backed off and sat down quietly on his boyfriend’s shoulder, not intending to be pushed inside a pocket as well. Anthea, who was oblivious to everything and texting away, suddenly said, “They are here.”

 

***

 

The inordinately long lecture from Mycroft was followed by Darren Jaeger waxing poetic about how fabulous this substance was and how pathbreaking a scientific discovery it could be. Sherlock and James endured the whole torment but only because they knew they were in a spot of trouble and completely dependent on Mycroft and this mad scientist to get them back to normalcy. Jim didn’t even say anything when Mycroft threatened to leave him tiny, just so he could ensure he didn’t mess around with the law or the government. Sherlock noticed his inner anger and asked his brother to back off.

 

“It will take a few days,” Jaeger announced, “Till then, you just have to ensure your partners keep you little men safe.”

 

“Don’t go around anywhere,” Mycroft said patronizingly, “Thanks to your little experiment you have managed to make yourselves extremely vulnerable. You could be swatted like flies or squashed like tomatoes. So stick to home, nobody but this little group needs to know what really happened, so let this remain our little secret. Colonel Moran, I shall be in touch. Take James and go home and John, you have to look after Sherlock like you always do. If he has any active cases please tell the clients he had to go out of country on urgent business. Moran, you need to do the same for James.”

 

“Are you permitting me to get back to work when I am bigger?” Jim grinned.

 

“JIM,” Sherlock gave him a glare.

 

“Ooops.”

 

“Wait,” Sebastian said, “What if the antidote does not work? Does this thing they consumed have permanent effects or will it wear off after some time?”

 

“Good point,” John echoed.

 

Darren Jaeger shrugged, “No idea at this point since we hadn’t experimented this on anyone. We had initially thought we would try them on rabbits but since two humans offered themselves to be the guinea pigs, we shall have to wait and watch.”

 

“Don’t worry,” John patted Sherlock as he cradled him to his chest, “No matter what you are, how big or small, I shall always love you.”

 

“And I you John,” Sherlock said with a hint of emotion.

 

“Sebby,” Jim shouted at his lover, eyes big as saucers, “Aren’t you supposed to say something similar to me too?”

 

“I thought it was a given baby,” Sebastian kissed Jim, nearly sucking him into his mouth in the process, “Now let’s go home. We have no other way but to wait.”


	5. Ken Doll Clothes and Tiny Food Crumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sebastian deal with their 'mini' mates while they worry if an antidote will ever really be possible

John woke up to pinpricks around his balls. At first he thought he was dreaming but the next moment he felt movement somewhere in his loins and jumped up. Since the bedroom was very quiet a small shriek was heard from somewhere inside his pajamas.

 

“Oh shit, Sherlock!” He gasped and pulled tiny Sherlock out of his pajamas and looked at him questioningly, “Were you kicking my nuts?”

 

“You don’t need to sleep that long do you Jawwn,” Sherlock shook his little fist at him as he stood on John’s palm, “I am hungry, I am bored, I have been trying to wake you up for hours now so I had to do what I had to do. A man’s weakest body part are his balls so I started kicking you there and then you woke up…..but you also suddenly sat up and almost crushed me under your balls. Do you want to kill me like this? Don’t you know one of your ball sacks weigh more than I do?”

 

John rolled his eyes, “In fact, the last sentence you uttered should be a self-warning.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah that. If one of my balls can crush you completely then you better behave.”

 

“You are insensitive and uncaring…..No no no….don’t you dare….don’t say that.”

 

John snickered and put on the ‘Holmes’ tone, “Caring is not an advantage….ouch, did you just bite me Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock lifted his mouth from John’s hand and said, “I want tea and breakfast.”

 

John rolled his eyes but went about doing his work anyways. He made toast and eggs and sausages and put them on a warmed plate on the table, next to two mugs of tea. He set Sherlock on the table and mixed sugar and milk in his tea and left his own tea with just a wee dash of cream, just like he preferred. He had taken only one sip when he heard Sherlock squeak. Or was he clearing his throat to draw attention?

 

“What is it?”

 

“Excuse me,” Sherlock said dramatically, pointing at himself, “Too tiny to pick up food or drink from the cup. Duh!”

 

“Oh….”

 

John made a mental note of fetching a little girl’s toy tea set or dinner set so Sherlock could eat his food till he regained his own height and body mass again. For now, he spoon fed Sherlock his tea and broke his food into tiny crumbs and let Sherlock eat it off his hand. But Sherlock was Sherlock and he kept complaining loudly (as loud as he could get with that tiny voice) about everything.

 

“Tea is too hot, crumbs are too big, hold it higher, no that’s too high, make it lower.”

 

“I am sitting on the table, can’t you just innovate and make me a small chair. I am wearing the same clothes since yesterday. I need a bath. You are not bothered about my wellbeing at all Jawwn.”

 

John rolled his eyes and kept doing things the best he could but Sherlock was a total nuisance. He tried to help John make a sandwich and upset the mayonnaise all over himself. He refused to take a poop on a newspaper and John had to force him to do that saying there were no teeny tiny commodes available in this world. He nearly fell off high places half a dozen times and when John saved him he complained and grumbled about how John shouldn’t have put him on a high spot. When John put him on the floor he accused John of trying to stamp on him.

 

By evening John was exhausted and annoyed beyond all limits.

 

***

 

Sebastian Moran was sure that his boss and lover Jim Moriarty, while being the man he loved with all his heart, was also the most fantastically complex and childish man on earth, a man who could make a person want to pull their hairs out in frustration.

 

He was wrong!

 

Mini Jim took the cake when it came to childishness, petulance, whims, annoyance, constant demands and melodrama. He was on duty practically 24/7 as Jim needed help for everything and didn’t seem to be satisfied with anything he offered as a solution. He was mad that he couldn’t work, madder that Sebastian was so slow as his stand-in and maddest when the threats he yelled into the phone were not even heard by his clients and adversaries. He blamed Sebastian for not building a phone for his ‘tiny self’ and got enraged when Sebastian called him ‘small’.

 

“I want sex, I am horny.”

 

“Jim, my cock will smother you. You have to be patient.”

 

“Then jerk me off. I can’t cum on my own with you sitting next to me.”

 

“I don’t have small fingers Jim, I can’t even grab your prick, it’s too small…..”

 

“I will skin you, I shall shave off half your hairs, I’ll turn you into a rug, you condescending asshole, you stupid smug sarcastic bitch…..”

 

“Jimmy please, you need me for everything and you’re slagging me off.”

 

“I DON’T need you.”

 

“Then get the remote and turn on the television all by yourself.”

 

After half hour a bleating sound came, “I wanna watch TV, please help.”

 

Sebastian did an eyeroll and turned the telly on but Jim’s relentless nonsense didn’t seem to cease at all. The sniper was astounded at just how much havoc this man could create even when he was just six inches tall and his voice was nothing more than the squeak of a dormouse. The problem was that Jim’s frustrations grew with every passing hour and after Mycroft stopped taking Sebastian’s calls about the status update on the antidote, the sniper had no other way of pacifying Jim. Then his eyes fell on the medicine cabinet and he had the most brilliant idea ever.

 

“Jim, do you want some candy?”

 

“And why didn’t you give me this brilliant suggestion before? Of course, I want candy.”

 

“Gimme a minute, I shall get you a piece small enough for you to chew on.”

 

***

 

“How is it going John?”

 

“Madness, sheer and complete madness Seb. How is it going with you?”

 

He heard Sebastian’s rich laughter before the criminal responded with a hushed answer. “I had to drug him and make him sleep. Got this idea when I saw the cough syrup in the medicine cabinet and guess how I made him take it? I gave him candy coated with that thing and he didn’t quite manage to figure out the trick. Had the candy, asked for a second piece, then fell asleep on my shoulder. He’s out like the light now and finally, finally, I have a few moments of peace.”

 

“Seb, I shall call you back. Need to do the same to Sherlock.”

 

“Does he like candy?”

 

“Good point. Maybe in tea….no, he will figure out the taste….what do I do?”

 

“Ice cream?”

 

“Fantastic idea.”

 

Ten minutes later John called and sounded much more upbeat. “Mission accomplished,” he said cheerfully, heaving a long sigh of relief right after, “Made him have a whole spoonful of ice cream spiked with that syrup and he dozed off within seconds of finishing the strawberry delight. He’s sleeping like a baby now and I have piled a mountain of cushions around him so he doesn’t roll off and fall down. I would be blamed even for that, you know.”

 

“Tell me about it. I have been blamed for not keeping clothes of his size on standby. How was I supposed to know he would indulge in this kind of madness?”

 

“Yeah same problem here. He wants a change of clothes.”

 

“I think I might have found an answer to that,” Sebastian said with a tinge of pride in his tone, “I had one of my men go to the toy stores and buy a truckload of doll’s clothes, male doll’s clothes like Ken and Prince Charming and what not, and those could be useful for our tiny geniuses. It’s not something that will please them or make them happy, they are certainly not going to look smart or dapper in them, but at least they won’t have to walk around naked or wear the same clothes day in and day out. I can have some of them sent to 221B if you are okay with that.”

 

“Okay? I am incredibly okay with that. Send them now.”

 

“On their way John.”

 

***

 

“John? Jawwn?”

 

“Yes Sherlock? You need something?”

 

Sherlock had woken up from a long nap and found himself wearing clothes that made him look ridiculous. A pair of blue breeches, a red sash around his waist, a white dress shirt on top with ruffled sleeves and a short jacket that was probably a fashion in fairy tales. While his first reaction was total repulsion, he knew why this had been done. John had put on doll’s clothes on him so he could wear something other than what he had been wearing for the past three days. “Um…what if I never get back to my original size? How long before you actually dump me and move on?”

 

John gently picked him up and brought him to his face level, so they could have a proper conversation without him straining his ears to hear his mate. “Why are you giving up Sherlock?” He asked, “You know you are my strength and hope. If you give up, it scares me.”

 

“No,” Sherlock said morosely, “It’s not true. I am not the one who provides strength and hope in the relationship. It’s you Jawn, it’s always been you. I may have never told you this before but it’s true. You are the one who has always held me together whenever I screwed up and left myself in a spot.”

 

John felt unusually emotional and couldn’t hold back his tears. Misty and glassy eyed, he kissed Sherlock (mostly touched his lips to Sherlock’s small frame) and cuddled him in his arms. “No matter what happens, take it from me in writing, I will NEVER abandon you.”

 

“But I am useless as a tiny man.”

 

“Never call yourself useless. Tiny yes, but even then you’ll be Sherlock Holmes, my Sherl.”

 

He was sure he saw a hint of tears in Sherlock’s eyes as well.

 

***

 

To Sebastian Jim looked cute as a button and utterly adorable in his little Ken suit, with small little boots and socks to match. But the look on the consulting criminal’s face told him Jim was in a lot of mental anguish and his depression was slowly taking over. It worried him that after years of carefully nursing the man back to a state of near normalcy (Jim would never be totally normal after all), he was helpless as he watched the love of his life slowly begin to show signs of his cerebral madness and depression in equal measures, all thanks to this ludicrous thing about shrinking in size.

 

“Go away, leave me here to die,” Jim said in a voice so dull and flat Sebastian flinched.

 

“Lookie here boss,” he said as he placed Jim on the cushion and lay down with his head on it, facing the criminal so they were as close and comfortable as possible to have a chat, “When I started working for you, I knew what I signed up for. Have I ever complained when I got stalked after a hit? Have I complained when someone shot me? These are part of the game, perils as well as pleasures. So why should it be any different when it comes to our relationship? The moment it hits a rocky patch you think I’ll abandon you and leave? Like rats deserting a ship.”

 

“I am a sinking ship,” Jim said bitterly.

 

“No, you are not. You still have the most brilliant mind in this world.”

 

“I have a feeling I will never be normal size again.”

 

“You will be. Mycroft will ensure that. His brother is also on the same boat isn’t it?”

 

“I dunno.”

 

“C’mere, let me hold you the best I can baby.”

 

Jim obediently came forward and nestled against Sebastian’s cheek. The two of them continued to listen to music in silence and Sebastian realized how much it soothed him and delighted him to just have Jim around.

 

He didn’t want to tell Jim as much, not intending to scare him any further, but he was also apprehensive of the reversal of size for both Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. What if the antidote never developed as expected? What if it didn’t work on them? What if they grew a bit but remained midget sized? What if there were horrible side effects which marred the lives of the two geniuses forever?

 

He closed his eyes and shuddered, not noticing how Jim watched his reactions intently.


	6. Vanishing clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The antidote is ready but does it work

“Honey I shrunk the geniuses…..tralalalaaaa…..Now I work on rebuilding them, slow as molasses……laaaalalalalala…….so they can be back to being jackasses…..!!!”

 

Mycroft lost his cool, possibly for one of the very few times in his life. “What the hell are you doing, singing and dancing when my brother and his friend are shrunk into tiny little pocket size men? It’s been almost five days and there is no antidote yet.”

 

Darren Jaeger stopped singing and looked at Mycroft with a hint of amusement, reproach and rebuke. “If you kept the vial carefully and hidden away Mr. Holmes, if your callous boyfriend didn’t let them know what was in it or just removed it from its position, if your so-called genius brothers hadn’t decided to experiment an unknown concoction on themselves, none of this would have happened. As for me singing and dancing, I didn’t dance I only sang and singing helps me relax while I am working on a deadline. Lastly, I had asked for a week and five days is less than a week so please don’t tell me I am behind schedule on the antidote.”

 

Every logic lashed out through those words hit Mycroft like arrows and he was forced to retract his statement hurriedly. Yes, it was true that the fault entirely lay with him and his family, including Greg. But there was no point in dwelling on that.

 

“I am sorry, didn’t mean to doubt your capability.”

 

“I am glad you didn’t. Because I am the only man who can help you.”

 

“How far have you gone with your experiment?”

 

“Almost on the last stretch. I need to test on something to prove my theory though.”

 

He aimed a nozzle at Mycroft and the man in the three-piece suit quickly opened his umbrella to shield himself, panic written large on his face. “Just kidding sir,” Jaeger cackled out with laughter, “I wouldn’t imagine blowing up the head of MI5 and MI6 into the size of a miniature giant would I? I shall lose my retirement money and all the benefits I draw from my position.”

 

“I am on my knees with gratitude,” an annoyed Mycroft retorted.

 

“But that mouse would do.”

 

“That tiny one, in the big cage?”

 

“Yes, that’s the one.”

 

“Ah, I got it. Well, now I see why you put a solo tiny mouse in such a large cage. If….I mean when it grows in size it will still remain in the cage while you test it for after effects and it won’t be a threat to us despite its considerably larger size. Am I correct Jaeger?”

 

“When are you not? Ready?”

 

“You mean the antidote is ready already?”

 

Darren Jaeger nodded with that little peal of a mad laughter that left Mycroft wondering whether he should be happy, relieved or apprehensive. This man was a genius but such an eccentric man that sometimes it was hard to read him. The older he got, the crazier he became and Mycroft was already considering retiring him by the end of the month when Jaeger took the crucial step. He pointed the nozzle of a laboratory instrument that looked a lot like a toy gun, loaded the little reservoir at the end with some of the antidote, asked his assistants to stand back, and sprayed the substance all over the mouse. The vermin was forced to swallow some because of the spray overwhelming it and rolled over on its back.

 

“Damn it,” Mycroft said, “It’s poison.”

 

“Shhh….hush…shhhh.”

 

“What shhhh? It’s dead.”

 

“Hush.”

 

The tiny mouse rolled back over and stared at the humans for a long moment. Then it began to swell and grow bigger in size. At first its stomach swelled, then its head and finally it became so big that the edges of the cage creaked. The female assistant screamed ‘It’s getting out’ at the top of her voice and ran out of the lab while the male assistant picked up a long iron rod and hid behind Mycroft, clutching at the Iceman’s sleeve. Darren Jaeger kept guffawing and saying ‘Come on now, get to the right size, just a bit more’, as if he was watching a balloon being blown up.

 

Metal screws went pinging and shooting off in all directions as the creature, now the size of a dog, got out.

 

Then it snarled at the humans.

 

“No no no no no,” Jaeger shouted.

 

But Mycroft had lost it by then and pulled his gun out. He shot the huge aberration and killed it before it could attack them with its pointy claws and scary large teeth.

 

“Now look what you have done,” Jaeger cried out.

 

“What? Saved our lives?”

 

“No, you didn’t let me quantify the side effects. Now there isn’t enough antidote left to re-perform the experiment. You will have to take a risk trying this out on Sherlock and James.”

 

“You should have devised a better cage then,” Mycroft huffed, “As things grow in size so does their strength.”

 

He stumbled slightly and looked down. The male assistant lay unconscious on the floor from the sheer panic he had suffered and it was his body the elder Holmes had tripped on. Jaeger shook his head and said, “Kids nowadays don’t even have the stomach or nerves we old fools do.” It made Mycroft look at him with a start and mutter ‘WE?’ but the scientist didn’t notice that.

 

***

 

Sherlock and Jim stood side by side, holding hands and trying their best to look brave and patient. The truth was different inside and only the two geniuses understood that as they exchanged a brief glance. Mycroft had told them this worked but only at a rudimentary and surface level. There was no guarantee they wouldn’t both grow to be seven and half feet each, or become extremely bulky and muscular, or not break out into an ugly rash as a sort of side effect of the antidote. The mouse had also become ferocious, so Sebastian and John had been tasked with the duty of holding tranquilizer guns in case the two men became violent and somewhat injurious to those around them.

 

Mycroft added a few drops to each of the tiny glasses of water the two pocket-size men held. Those were toy plastic glasses which were a part of a Barbie playset but for now those would have to do.

 

Greg Lestrade, Sebastian Moran and John Watson held their breaths as they watched the water change colour and the scent of analgesic, leaves and a hint of cocoa came from the substance developed as an antidote to the ‘shrinking potion’. Sherlock and Jim took deep breaths and drained their glasses before setting them down and looking once again at each other. Seconds turned to a full minute and a minute turned to several minutes but no changes happened in the two geniuses at all. Sebastian and John looked accusingly at Mycroft who held up his hands in defeat.

 

“It worked on the mouse.”

 

“Hold on,” Jim yelled, “Was it diluted?”

 

“Um…no.”

 

Sherlock shouted this time, “Then why was ours mixed with water…….”

 

Before he could finish, one of Sherlock’s arms grew as big as his original ones and he fell on his side, losing his balance. Jim’s head grew to normal size on his tiny body and he fell backwards, tiny torso and legs in the air as he became more or a Humpty Dumpty.

 

Suddenly one of Sherlock’s legs grew long and Greg, who had come closer to check on his brother in law got a kick on the side unexpectedly and inadvertently. Mycroft similarly went to check on Jim and a hand grew long and normal sized and socked him on the face.

 

“Guess we maintain our distance for now?” John looked at Sebastian who nodded in agreement.

 

“What are you looking at?” Greg commanded, “Shoot the darts now.”

 

John refused to do anything and looked over Greg’s head and Sebastian also refused to budge from his soldier’s position, standing with his heels clicked together. They hid the tranquilizer guns behind their backs and stoically stared as Mycroft and Greg somehow managed to put some distance between themselves and the two ‘transforming geniuses’. Greg looked at John and Sebastian a bit angrily but Sebastian bit back before the DI could open his mouth. “I am not shooting a dart into my man because you got a kick on the side Lestrade. It was also your fault that the bottle was lying around and Sherlock got his hands on it. Now step aside and let the process complete.”

 

Mycroft pulled Greg back. In the meantime Sherlock was now his normal size aside from one leg and Jim was almost normal, save for a head slightly larger than usual.

 

“It’s working,” John was elated.

 

“Yeah it is, they are changing back into….wait….it’s not quite the same,” Sebastian said with a pinch of apprehension in his voice.

 

They were now larger, or rather, longer than usual. Sherlock was as tall as Sebastian while Jim was almost six feet. Then the two of them cramped up and suddenly shrunk back to their original sizes. However, a small anomaly still remained. Sherlock had one ear larger than the other while Jim’s hands were incredibly small for his size. He always had girl’s size hands and feet but right now his hands were almost a tween girl’s size while his feet had gone back to a size eight.

 

“What the fuck,” Sherlock gasped.

 

“This is not good,” Jim echoed.

 

The two consultants jostled with each other as they looked at themselves in the mirror. Suddenly, both yelped and ran into the bedroom, cursing loudly and calling Jaeger all kinds of names.

 

“Um….” Mycroft looked unruffled and his usual cool self again, “Any reason the clothes shrunk when they shrunk but didn’t grow along with them to their normal size?”

 

***

 

“Your hands are back to normal size,” Sebastian said as groans left him. He was lying on his back with his legs high in the air while Jim fucked him into the mattress. “I think your cock has grown in size. I can feel it so good…..ohhhh!”

 

Jim moved his hips back and forth, eyes closed and a smile of satisfaction on his lips. It was good to be back to his size, back to normal, being able to do all the normal things as independently as before and most of all, to be able to fuck again.

 

“Stop talking,” he moaned as he slid even deeper into Sebastian. He didn’t top often but after this recent experience, being dependent on his boyfriend for everything, he needed to assert his dominant side a bit more. Sebastian understood and allowed him, enjoying the feel of Jim working him up to a point where he knew his cock wouldn’t even need a touch to spurt out the semen that was threatening to shoot to the tip any moment. One more nudge to his prostate and it would be all over!

 

Jim watched Sebastian with shining eyes, tilting his head slightly as he asked for a silent permission. Sebastian understood and nodded, taking a deep breath. Almost immediately a strong hand lodged at his throat as Jim upped the pace and began to pound inside him like a man possessed. The blonde’s hips canted off the bed as he pushed back, seeking the orgasm he so needed, large hands smacking and grabbing at Jim’s skin and limbs in sheer desperation and awe. Jim was back, his Jimmy was back, they were back to their normal conjugal and domestic life again!

 

A sudden clench of his internal muscles did the trick and Jim came with a wild cry, shaking all over as he allowed himself to flow into his man. As soon as he felt warmth flood his channel, Sebastian gave in and shot all over his stomach and ribs, gasping wildly as Jim let go of his hold over his throat. The asphyxiation seemed to have prolonged his pleasure and his orgasm went on for longer than usual.

 

When it finally ended and they had calmed down, the first thing Sebastian did was gather Jim in his arms and whisper, “I thought I would lose you.”

 

Jim put his arms around Sebastian and winked, “And what will you do now that danger has passed Mr. Sentimental Pants? Pop a ring out of your ear and put it on my finger….whoa!”

 

“Yes I would, I did, now it’s up to you to answer,” Sebastian said with a happy grin as he held Jim’s hand up between their faces. There was a beautiful platinum engagement band on the ring finger of the criminal’s left hand.

 

“Fine, I accept,” Jim said softly, then his tone became business-like and he rattled on, “I have some conditions. At work you call me boss, I need my tea in bed, at night I need a foot rub, you haven’t told me a hunting story in weeks, I like your Chinese food, I want more….”

 

Sebastian just said yes to all. He knew, especially after this incident, that he’d do anything to make Jim happy. But this time there was a strange glow in Jim’s eyes as the criminal clung to his sniper in post coital haze, something he didn’t do for so long.

 

“Tiger,” he whispered sleepily, “You are the only person I could trust when I was tiny.”

 

To Sebastian it sounded the closest to ‘I love you’ he’d get from Jim, ever.

 

***

 

“Cum for me Sherlock.”

 

As if he was just waiting for this permission, Sherlock climaxed wildly. As he shot spurt after spurt of his load, John held him up on all fours with surprising strength as he continued to move inside him to reach his orgasm. Sherlock floated in the aftershocks, moaning.

 

Later, too spent and limp to move as John eased out of him and helped him lie down on his back, away from the semen he had shot on the sheets, Sherlock breathed through his mouth to prevent himself from becoming overcome with emotions. But John being John, he quickly took Sherlock in his arms and kissed the top of his head. “Hey there big boy,” he spoke in a tone of reassurance, “You are all right now. Ear is back to normal size and your bodily functions are all as good as ever. Cleaning can wait, tell me first what’s making that lower lips of yours wobble.”

 

“Jawn, I was scared you’d leave me.”

 

“By now you know I never would.”

 

“I know, I am that irresistible.”

 

John rolled his eyes and smacked Sherlock’s arse, “Not to mention this thing is the best thing God created for me on this planet.”

 

“What if I wake up small again?”

 

“No, won’t happen. Think positive Sherl. But seriously, as a tiny man you peed in the room?”

 

“Try taking a leak in the pot when you’re eight inches tall.”

 

John grabbed a towel and cleaned them up before wrapping his arms around Sherlock once more. “Listen, I will never leave you, abandon you or walk out on you. It’s been several years that we’ve been together and you’ve seen enough of me to know that I am not a quitter. I might get annoyed, angry even, fight with you or walk away for a bit to clear my head but I will always come back to my Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock rested his head on John’s chest and whispered, “I feel a bit lucky tonight and not just because I am back to normal size.”

 

John kissed the still slightly larger ear and snorted, “I love you too Sherlock.”

 

***

 

1 month later

 

“Sherly hey!”

 

“Jim? Wazzup? Where have you been? I heard Sebastian proposed to you.”

 

“Yeah we are engaged now. Guess what? I went into Jaeger’s laboratory and stole another sample. Or rather, made him create another sample.”

 

“Sample of what?”

 

“To grow um….our….yeah that.”

 

“Jim, what if they shrink instead.”

 

“I am sure there will be an antidote. And how do you care you power bottom?”

 

“Shut up. I know you’re a sub too.”

 

“Then what’s the fear?”

 

“Hmmm, see you tomorrow at 221B, 10 am.”

 

It was another thing that Jim brought a drugged, unconscious and bound DI Lestrade with him to do the first experiment on, saying it would be a perfect wedding gift for Mycroft, but that is another story altogether.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These eccentric geniuses refuse to learn eh! Thanks for reading, for the comments and kudos. Truly appreciate them!

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired slightly by 'Honey I shrunk the kids' movie but only in concept.


End file.
